


A Dragon in the Wake

by Polishedscales



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, But involves mythological stances, Dragonkin, Eventual Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Otherkin, Possible violence, Smauglock, Still set in London, smaugbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polishedscales/pseuds/Polishedscales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has reoccurring dreams that haunt him night and day, ones that involve a scaled-drake and a biped that looks suspiciously like John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will involve the Otherkin community as a base of belief for Sherlock, if you're not interested in that I suggest you do not read this. Also, as a note eventual smut will be involved which will have a strong possibility of being explicit. This fic is made entirely by me without any proof reading from alternate sources. With that being said there may be errors in grammar or plot line. Overall, I hope you enjoy and support is highly welcomed.

Sherlock gripped his warm mug with both hands as he stretched out the tight muscles in his legs, placing them in a cross-legged fashion on the not-so-cluttered coffee table. 

It was midnight.

John was likely fast asleep by this hour and in a way that made Sherlock relax even more easily. Over the past weeks his dreams had been haunted by a pair of golden, slit eyes and a bundle of scales. The creature's task that he had no control over was that of simplicity- resting beneath mounds of gold and assorted items that were, no doubt, prized possessions. Simple, until he had been awakened by an intruder who had an unfamiliar scent that was unrecognizable to his ancient senses- and who also looked too similar to the man he currently shared his flat with. Sherlock's tongue ran over the shapes of his teeth as he mulled the thought over. He did spend a large amount of time with John, perhaps that's what the cause was for this reoccurring trouble? Research suggested subconscious means, emotions or memories that were deemed unimportant in his general wake that were eventually revealed in his slumber, but why was it the same each time and why did it seem so damn familiar? 

"Sherlock?" John's concerning voice fore him from his pondering. "It's quite late, you should consider getting some sleep."

Sherlock tensed at that last word, his jaw clenching tightly as he waved a hand in dismissal. "I will sleep when I find it necessary John."

His friend rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he took his place next to Sherlock, groaning in exhaustion once his body sunk into the comforts of the couch. "If that were the case you'd never sleep. Is there something going on with Mycroft that's been making you so restless?"

"Mycroft? No, god no. Don't even mention him." Sherlock took a sip of his beverage before placing it securely on the table, moving his hands to rest comfortably on the lengths of his legs.  
  
"Then what is it?"

"It's something.. Do you ever have dreams John? Strange ones despite the ones you relive from your time in Afghanistan?"

"Sometimes." John nodded, pursing his lips. "Nothing too fantastical that I can recall."

"Ah." Sherlock remarked, blue eyes avoiding the stare of his imploring friend's gaze.

"Is that all? Dreams? Nightmares? I could wake you if I hear you-"

"No, that's fine John. I'm fine. I've just been feeling different lately."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"You would tell me wouldn't you, if it were important?"

"If it were important."  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has many questions as he watches Sherlock sleep, but he gets more than he had bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the get-go I wanted this fic to be a mixture of kin to sexually based things. Smaugbo, Smauglock- Whatever you'd like to call it.
> 
> I also wanted to add that in no way am I downing the dragonkin community or speaking on behalf of everyone or anyone. This was made for entertainment reasons and, believe it or not, I'm dragonkin myself, but wanted to throw the this in here to help develop the story. 
> 
> It will get strange if you're not used to these things, believe me, but it's not too strange from my point of view. A hint as to what there will be to come could involve some BD (Bad Dragon) products to help with Sherlock's needs and wants for relieving what he wants to on his beloved John. Also, Sherlock will adopt dragon behavior in a more or less noticeable way. (Hoarding, etc.)

That morning John had walked upon Sherlock in the same position he was yesterday, except for this time he was sound asleep with his mouth agape and a dimly lit laptop carelessly angled off of his lap. As to not wake the man he gently gripped the base of the laptop and carefully removed it from him, allowing Sherlock to stir into a more comfortable position that would deepen his sleep.

On the laptop's screen was various tabs that listed from dreams to a community referred to as _Otherkin_. John furrowed his brow in confusion.

_Was this related to the brief conversation they had last night? What was Sherlock not telling him?_

Curiosity justified his reasoning to investigate further. He clicked through each tab, gathering every amount of information he could whilst keeping an eye on Sherlock's status. Luckily, as he finished and powered off the machine, Sherlock still remained motionless. He placed the laptop onto the coffee table with ease and turned to eye his friend, crossing his arms as his thoughts overwhelmed him. He had never considered Sherlock Holmes to be of eccentric beliefs, but the man himself _was_ quite eccentric when it came to his overly intelligent train of thought and habits, even to the point where it left John fascinated. Completely fascinated at that. In the very least he should've expected just as much, maybe even something a little more extreme, but was this even an extremity? As is anyone he has the right to be entitled to his own beliefs, but why did he ask John if he had a dream of something strange? Had he seen John in these dreams and wondered if he too had experienced something of relation? 

Almost immediately Sherlock lazily curled himself inwards, his hands bent and tucked cozily against his chest as his elbows contacted his knees. _"Thief."_ He muttered, his fingers twitching at the acts that he dreamed.

On many occasions had John found himself peering upon the dozing state of his flatmate, but never had he experienced him talking in his sleep so clearly. His first reaction was to wake him and usher him to his room, but as Sherlock continued he thought otherwise.

"Thief." Sherlock rumbled again, his voice almost cavernous in its tone.

Despite John's best judgement he sat himself at the edge of the coffee table to observe Sherlock more closely, strangely appalled and, admittedly, stimulated by his activity. _Thief?_   John thought, exhaling as he toyed the word over in his mind. The word washed over him with familiarity, but again, he quietly listened.  

Sherlock growled and his lip curled upwards while he spoke, his head nuzzling against the cushion with earnest. "You dare to steal from me at what costs?" More mumbling accompanied the sentence before it became more comprehensible to understand. "Perhaps an arrangement could be made, that is, if, you're willing my thief?"

What was happening finally struck John. _Of course. His search was particularly based on dragons- a specific type rendering him as something called dragonkin because of what he's been experiencing. He must be having this dream again now and with some other being in there that he is referring to as this thief._

"John." Sherlock murred, his once bent hands reaching down to press firmly against his groin.

John instantly froze at his name.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will do my best to update more often.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a writer in progress so I do hope you find my writing somewhat exceptional. This scene is through Sherlock's eyes as to what he's dreaming of and the next will be vice versa depending on what happens. Hope you enjoy!

It had only been a few seconds when Sherlock found himself in the depths of his dreams once more, facing the large keep that was enveloped with the treasures of every man's desire, human and dwarf alike, but those treasures meant nothing in comparison to the creature that had visited him each unchanging night. 

He was different.

No smell has ever surpassed his ancient knowledge of beings, yet this one did. He was unrecognizable, though his features pertained that of a common human's- despite the large feet and unusually smaller size in height, but no, that did not render this creature useless and without courage. Before him he stood and retorted with answers and statements and little did he show true fear through the remarks of flattery. It was, altogether, pleasing- enticing. Enticing enough to have himself slide with ease against the small contents of the cave, that would have been as much of an obstacle as any creature that wasn't his size, and pursue the tumbling man that had unknown intentions. Each swipe of his thick tail caused the man even more trouble as the valuables moved in response and, noting that, he decided to take a much more appealing action- using magic to turn into his less intimidating form that was not as nearly large as his original state was. This could give him a better advantage for them both to.. cooperate. 

The hobbit's labored breathing increased noticeably as he searched for the dragon's presence with difficulty, but as soon as he spotted his new physique the man almost stopped altogether, appearing awestruck. From what, Sherlock wasn't quite sure yet, but he had a sense that it had something to do with attraction.

Sherlock circled the hobbit as he inspected him, making sure to eye him completely from head to toe in order to calculate what benefits he could render from the creature. After having done so, his progress found him satisfied and he fixed himself within a good distance between them, ensuring that he didn't protrude in the hobbit's personal space. 

"You look oddly familiar, thief." Sherlock spoke, his voice retaining its low baritone but in a less frightful way. "Have we met before?" His deep red mottled tail twitched.

"I'm not sure." The hobbit paused, his eyes staring at the space between his feet before returning to look at him with a suspicious grin. "Have we?"

Sherlock blinked hard in bewilderment, astonished by the man's gut. His blood singed with anticipation at the hobbit's gamble and thus he strode forward, closing the distance between the two of them until they were a breath space apart, his golden eyes flashing in approval. "I do not believe we have, creature from under the hill. Yet you continue to test my judgement with your games that you create?" He searched the hobbit's face for identification and, slowly, the features began to click in his mind absently. Even so he pushed his best judgement aside and forced the man up against one of the nearest stone pillars, pressing his scaly underbelly into the form of the hobbit's arching back. To Sherlock's surprise the hobbit did little to struggle. 

"Tell me your name thief so that I may address you properly other than referring to you by the lifestyle you lead." Sherlock mumbled with a chesty note, hastily ripping at the garments that blocked him from his objective. Beneath him the hobbit trembled with a mixture of fear and arousal. "Your name." Sherlock repeated again, digging his talons into the meat of the man's thighs. When the hobbit replied his answer was distorted.

"B-." The hobbit muttered, drawing in long breaths.

"Speak up thief." Sherlock snarled impatiently, finding himself gradually rubbing his hard, barbed length against the tight space between the hobbit's legs.

"John." The hobbit replied, but much, much more clearly this time, adopting the voice of his flatmate. 


End file.
